Dear Diary
by G.M.Rivers
Summary: After the war, Hermione decides Harry needs help getting over everything. No muggle psychologist would ever be able to handle him, so she decides he should write in a diary. Not that Harry agrees with her plan. Even so, Hermione can be very convincing when she wants to be, as all those who ever stood in her way know. (Deals with a slightly darker take on the war)
1. June 4th 1998

**A/N**

 **This story will be made up entirely of diary entries, however, they will get longer once we get more into the story, as Harry will slowly get used to the idea of writing in a diary. For the time being, they'll be fairly short.**

 **This story starts some time after Voldemort is finally defeated. The battle of hogwarts took place May 2nd 1998, meaning it's still pretty fresh for the characters.**

June 4th 1998

Dear Diary,

I can't believe I just wrote that. This is stupid. This whole _writing about it will make you feel better_ thing is stupid. Sadly, Hermione is quite determined that this is the way to go after a traumatic event, seeing as I refused to talk about my feelings with a psychologist. Though it would have had been a heavily edited version of my feelings, what with _magic_ and the _statute of secrecy_. I wonder why wizards have no psychologists. The closest thing they have are mind healers, but they take care of things like occlumency accidents, not feelings. Hermione is glaring at me. I think she can tell I'm not really writing about the war, like she said I should, even though she is on the other side of the room. I wonder if she feels guilty for not looking for her parents yet. She said she'd probably go sometime next week, but I'm pretty sure she's stalling. I swear she has some kind of ability that lets her know when Ron and I do something wrong, I can literslly feel her glare burning holes into my head. Apparently I wasn't subtle enough with my glances towards her. She has now left the room after stating that I'd better write something other than complaints about her. Also, that _she'll_ _know if I don't_. I believe her.

Well then, I guess I just have to get it over with.

The war is over. That's good, I guess, but being there… I have never seen anything like it. I suppose it doesn't seem real. Not to me, at least. Probably not to those who were actually in the battle. It's not heroic, or noble. I don't see anything noble in teenagers having to fight for a war that started years before their time. There's nothing pretty about it. Not while _children_ lay unmoving on the ground while the people of Britain hid behind their doors. The same people that now want to present us with an award as they read about their noble hero in the Daily Prophet.

War is ugly. People die. A lot of people. Others are left behind to live on for those who couldn't. Like me, I suppose. I miss them all. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Dumbledore, Snape, even Dobby, the list goes on and on. I guess my saving people thing didn't really work as it should have had.

Hermione would have slapped me a bit for making that comment. I wonder what Ron would have done. I haven't really seen Ron lately, he's been really quiet. The whole house is quiet. I hate it. Sirius would have hated it too, if he was alive. Most of the Weasleys are staying here, though Bill is elsewhere with Fleur. Fleur is pregnant, though. That's the one good thing that's come of this. They gave the news a few days ago. Kind of surreal, really, to have that kind of joy in between all the memorials and funerals.

The last few weeks as a whole have been surreal. It feels weird, knowing he's gone for good. Not that there aren't any death eaters left. Last night makes three attempts to kill me in the last two weeks. Not that they succeeded, obviously. It's only been a month though. I can't wait to put all this behind me. If I ever can.

Well, I guess that's it. Hopefully I won't be coerced into writing in here today.


	2. June 16th 1998

**A/N** **Hey guys, I'm so glad you seem to like this story! I hope you enjoy this one too, however short it may be.** **(Thank you to those who reviewed! You made my day!)**

June 16th 1998

Dear Diary,

I can't believe I'm actually doing this. Again. To tell the truth, I don't see how this is supposed to help. Hermione came by yesterday. Again. I don't know how she knew, but she could tell I hadn't written a single word since her last visit. She actually hit me over the head with this diary for being, and I quote, "A stubborn, self-sacrificing arse." I honestly don't see what self-sacrificing has to do with me refusing to write in a bloody diary. Though I didn't actually tell her that. Not only would she have had my hide, but I didn't have the heart to argue with her. She looked bad. We all do, it was a war, but she looked worse than usual. It's been one week since she first tried fixing her parents' memories. There hasn't been any progress. One of my best friends has shut herself in the next room, going crazy with guilt, and I can do nothing to help. She hasn't come out since yesterday evening and I can do nothing. Not that Ron can. Neither of us can blame him though. The Weasleys are all suffering through Fred's death. Ron hasn't been eating properly, not unless Hermione coaxes him. Charlie's smile is just a bit too wide, I think he's planning on going back to his dragons soon. Bill seems fine, most of the time, until someone does something that reminds him of his brother and he squeezes Fleur's hand just tightly enough to hide his shaky fingers. Percy has nightmares, he looks more exhausted every day. Ginny spends most of her time on a broom, flying as fast as she can for hours each day. I join her, sometimes. George, he doesn't even- not that any of us expected any different. I think he's planning on closing the shop permanently. I hope he doesn't. Maybe he should write a diary. I wonder if he'd take this one.

Wait, no. Now that I think about it, I don't think Ginny would be thrilled to have her brothers write in diaries all the time.

Anyway, Andy came by earlier today. That's actually why I'm currently writing, I needed to vent my thoughts a little... to just- think. She brought Teddy. I think she's hoping that I'll take him, if only for a little while. With Tonks dead… Well, she's having a hard time. I feel guilty for leaving Teddy with her. I know I'm not ready to take care of him, not yet at least, I can barely take care of myself right now, but she deserves time to grieve too. I just- I need a little more time, that's all. Just a few days until I can get my head straight again. Then I'll offer to take Teddy, at least for a few days. He really seems to like me, for some reason. Or at least as much as a baby can like anyone. I have never really interacted with babies, so I don't exactly have any experience as a frame of reference. One thing about Teddy, he's as lively as his mother. I don't think the little bundle could go more than ten minutes without breaking into peals of gurgling laughter about something. Anything. It's ridiculous. I just wish Tonks and Remus were here to see it.

I wish the war had never happened.

Well, Hermione was wrong. Writing in this thing didn't help a bit.


	3. June 29th 1998

p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"June 29th 1998/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"Dear Diary,/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"Hermione is getting better. At least she has enough energy to glare at me for not writing. It's a vast improvement from the days she spent shutting us all out, but my shoulder will not thank her for it. I am sure to develop a diary-shaped bruise. Not that she feels sorry about it. Anyway, she promised to stop hitting me with it if I wrote for a little while. This counts, right? I think the only reason she's not currently hovering nearby is that she finally got some results. Her parents are starting to remember. Nothing big, just a few odd things here and there. She visited with a fake name this morning, under the guise of a concerned neighbor making sure they were settling it alright. And so, Mr. and Mrs. Granger had tea with Ms. Anna Jackson. More importantly, they made Hermione's tea exactly as she likes it, but Anna Jackson never told them how she drank her tea./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"I hope things keep getting better. I don't think Hermione could take it to have her hopes dashed again./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"A/Nbr /I know, it took forever for me to upload, and it's a tiny chapter, but worry not, I'll upload again later today. Thanks for reading!/span/p 


	4. August 20th 1998

August 20th 1998

Dear Diary,

Hermione plans to go back to Hogwarts once september comes. She says it's important to finish our education. I'm not sure I agree. After everything that's happened, I thought I would have jumped at the chance to experience Hogwarts as it was supposed to be. No Voldemort, no death tournaments, no professors out to kill me. I was wrong. I can't seem to find a purpose to it. What does it matter if mars is closer to earth on such and such days if the part of the planet where we actually live is currently full of destruction? Who cares about shady readings of tea leaves when the present is so messed up? How can knowing about one hundred and six different instances of conflicts between goblins and wizards help me to get over the fact that I _killed someone_? I learned a lot in my time at Hogwarts, but there's nothing more for me to learn there. Astronomy, History of Magic, Divination, they are all useless when faced with a society on the brink of collapse.

The wizengamot is in tatters, many seats were left empty or in the hands of much too young heirs. The wizarding world is nowhere near ready to go on as if nothing has happened. There are laws to be passed, positions to be filled. Wounds to be healed.

As heir to the Potter and Black family lines there is a lot of work waiting for me. But even outside the world of politics, there are things I need to do. Not as the boy-who-lived, but as a person. I need time to grieve for the world I thought I had, even if most of it has been broken for a while.

The war may be over but there's still a lot that needs to be done. The people of magical britain are still scared. The streets are empty once the sun goes down, windows closed, doors locked. Auror patrols can be seen often enough, but with the losses they suffered during the war, they are spread too thin. Burglaries are common place amidst the less affluent streets. Knockturn Alley is a hub of criminal activity, full of disgruntled werewolves, vampires, and junior death eaters than never really got to dive deeper into the cause. I expected more, I guess. I thought places like Knockturn would fade into memory once the war was over. I was sure that the prejudice would fade too. How naive I was. The war wasn't the problem, it was a symptom, I see that now. The real problem is the people. They are unwilling to change.


End file.
